


Practical Voodoo

by ConsultingWriter



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Post-Cuba, Post-Movie, kind of cute?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:56:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingWriter/pseuds/ConsultingWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex and Sean have found the perfect way to got revenge on Erik and Raven for leaving.</p><p>  <i>He wheeled himself to them and bent down, flipping the book closed to look at the cover; Practical Voodoo! it screamed at him, and he lifted his head to look at the two young men with a raised eyebrow. </i></p><p><i>“Raven and Erik!” Sean blurted out, startling Charles, only to fall silent at the dark look Alex shot him. Charles turned his eyes to stare at Alex. </i><br/> <br/><i>The blonde stayed stubbornly silent, for a moment at least. He broke when Charles upped his look into what Raven—Mystique, he mentally corrected himself—used to call his ‘dad’ face.</i></p><p>
  <i>“They need to be punished.” He said stubbornly and Sean nodded enthusiastically.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practical Voodoo

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at an X-Men fic. Hope you like it.
> 
> Based off the scene in Lilo and Stitch that has a similar theme.

Charles closed the refrigerator door with a sigh. The pickles were missing. There was half a jar of his favorite whole pickles in there just last evening. He let his forehead rest against the cool surface of the refrigerator with a hard thunk and sighed again. It was fine; he didn’t really want pickles anyway.

The library, he decided after a moment, sounded like an excellent place to be. He could pick out a good book and lounge on one of the couches and relax the day away. With that in mind, he pulled himself away from the refrigerator and wheeled himself down the halls and to his library. 

Alex and Sean were sitting in the floor cross-legged and a book lay open between them; along with his jar of pickles. 

Charles opened his mouth the gently scold them about having food—and his pickles in particular—in the library instead of in the kitchen were they belonged when he noticed the two spoons that also lay between them. His mouth snapped shut for a moment and he tried to sigh quietly to himself—those were part of the good set of silverware, the set that had been his mother’s favorite, and now one was painted blue and the other had some sort of headpiece and they both had faces. 

He leaned back in his chair to watch; he was curious and half-tempted to just skim their minds to find their plot, to see if he should interrupt them or not but, well, he was so terribly curious to actually see what they would do—to see if their scheme was worth the sacrifice of his mother’s expensive set of silverware. 

“Okay,” Sean said, bending over to scan down the book’s page carefully “now when can just,” he picked up the jar and unscrewed the lid with a quick snap of his wrist “open that and…” he scooped up the spoons and, to Charles’s horror, dropped them into the jar and screwed the lid back on with a satisfied look on his face “then we just shake.” 

He held out the jar to Alex “Would you like to do the honors?” the ginger asked and the other boy accepted with a firm nod and the ghost of a smile. 

The telepath’s horror blended with amusement with he watched Alex, who had a serious look of concentration on his face, shake the jar mercilessly. 

“What,” he said, trying to keep a stern look on his face as the boys froze—Alex still with the jar mid-sake—and turned to look at him with wide eyes; busted, Charles smirked to himself “are the two of you doing?”

He wheeled himself to them and bent down, flipping the book closed to look at the cover; Practical Voodoo! it screamed at him, and he lifted his head to look at the two young men with a raised eyebrow. 

“Raven and Erik!” Sean blurted out, startling Charles, only to fall silent at the dark look Alex shot him. Charles turned his eyes to stare at Alex. 

The blonde stayed stubbornly silent, for a moment at least. He broke when Charles upped his look into what Raven—Mystique, he mentally corrected himself—used to call his ‘dad’ face.

“They need to be punished.” He said stubbornly and Sean nodded enthusiastically.   

Charles heaved a sigh but didn’t scold them; he knew how they felt—the stinging betrayal they had all felt when they’d been left on that forsaken beach with no way off and two potentially hostile armies that had been added too as they waited at the hospital, waiting for Erik and Raven to check in on a wounded, paralyzed, Charles only to be disappointed; they still hadn’t heard a word from the other two ex-members of their family. 

“Okay,” the telepath conceded after a moment and held out his hand “Let me see it.”

Alex, with a dubious look on his face, handed the jar over without question. 

The older man swallowed down the lump in his throat and gave the jar an angry shake of his own and then another, and then another. It was actually sort of… therapeutic. “Groovy,” he hummed and gave the jar another few shakes, just to get it all out of his system, before handing it back to Alex, who passed it off to Sean wordlessly. They both looked a bit shell-shocked. 

Charles smiled to himself, a bit pleased that he could still be unpredictable—even as a frumpy professor in a wheelchair—and rolled himself away, it was time to clean off his chess board. No need leaving it the way it was, with Erik positioned in what he thought would win him the game. He was wrong of course, Charles would’ve won that game, and he would win the new game Erik had decided to play as well.   

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is NoSwordsForLittleDragons, if anyone is interested (thought as a warning I must say that I usually deal in Johnlock and slash, so.)


End file.
